


In 19 Years

by multifandom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon, F/M, Fluff, Humour, In 19 Years, M/M, Multi, Romance, Trigger Warnings, post—hogwarts, there are more characters but you know, triggers will be marked before the chapter containing it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandom/pseuds/multifandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered what happened in the 19 years after the Battle of Hogwarts?</p>
<p>Here's my version of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath

Through the thick smoke and haze, small rays of sunshine managed to break through, like a beacon of hope fighting to shine fully.

The battle had ended just hours ago and now the long and painful healing process had begun.

Sometimes, the burn was worse than the flame.

Harry walked through the rubble and dust from the place he still called home, into the Great Hall, where so many of his strongest memories had taken place. But instead of the bright colours and animated chatter he remembered, there was only the sound of grief – low murmuring, whimpers and sobs and the kind of heavy silence that somehow makes the loudest noise of all.

The windows were shattered, the ceiling that showed the sky outside was black and the floor was dirty and almost impossible to walk on for all the sheet-covered bodies. Harry shivered at the thought that people he knew, people he was friends with, were under some of those sheets.

It was dark in the room and as Harry squinted through it all, he realised that even though Voldemort was gone and the war was over, no one could be happy yet.

He did not notice Professor McGonagall was speaking until after everyone had looked slowly up to listen. Still, he only half-listened as he watched George Weasley crouch over his twin brother, crying silently, but violently, one hand holding on as if it would bring Fred back to life and the other hand holding on to his mother’s as she too cried. Her tears ran down her face as her red and puffy eyes watched McGonagall. Her husband stood behind her, head looking down, not quite able to show his face.

The rest of the Weasleys watched on, some crying, the others staring stonily ahead of them. Hermione stood by Ron, gripping his hand so tightly it had gone white, her shining eyes staring at McGonagall, her focus intent on what she had to say. Harry decided he should probably do the same.

“… and we will rebuild this school back up to what it was together. And we will make it greater and stronger and a place where our hope and the people who lost their lives’ legacy will live on. I encourage you all to stay strong as we mourn our dead and try to remember that they died fighting bravely. A ceremony will be held in a few days to honour them. Until then, I invite every one of you to stay here in the castle or in rooms at Hogsmeade, if you so wish. To those who feel that they can, we ask them to help us restore what can be restored. Thank you. I will now leave you to your families … or Potter?” she said his name, confused. Even he was confused as he stood in the place where Dumbledore had stood and addressed the people in the Hall as Dumbledore had.

Dumbledore had always seemed sure of what to say. Harry didn’t know what words to use. Were there any?

“I’m sorry. For all that has happened to you and your families, to your loved ones. And there’s still a lot of fighting and fixing to do, but I know we can do it because thanks to every single person in this Hall, Voldemort is gone.” He looked to Ron and Hermione. Ron was blinking rapidly, trying to fight the tears away, but Hermione was letting hers run freely down her cheeks, her eyes shining with pride as she looked at him. “And maybe what comes next is going to be harder than what we just did, but we will get through it together. So I will leave you to grieve and mourn and remember and then we can continue to fight and fix the big and the little things. Oh, and uh, thank you. Everyone.”

He walked down the steps and towards Mrs. Weasley’s open arms. She pulled him into a hug that seemed to last an eternity. She clutched at him tightly, her body occasionally racking with a violent sob before she passed him over to Ron and Hermione.

They squeezed him, and maybe it would have hurt if he didn’t feel so numb.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Ron said. The sob sitting in his throat could be heard in his voice. “I can’t be around … this anymore.”

Hermione looked at him and squeezed his hand before leading him from the Hall, Harry following.

She took them to the Black Lake. The surface of it could not be seen under all the dirt and debris.

“The tree,” Hermione’s voice shook. “It’s burnt.”

The beech tree they had found themselves sitting under so many times across the past six years was black, a few orange leaves still hanging on to their branches. Harry looked away. Voldemort really had taken everything.

They walked around the lake a little more until they reached the place just outside of the Forest that Hermione and Harry had sat in their third year while they waited for everyone to exit the Whomping Willow.

They sat there now, Ron leaning against a tree trunk and Hermione leaning against him. Harry sat against another tree, a little across from them and picked at a leaf that had fallen from one of the trees.

“It’s weird, seeing you guys like this,” Harry said, looking up from his half broken leaf.

They looked at each other in the way that couples usually looked at each other, the same small smiles on both their faces.

“Yes, usually I’m the one sitting where you are, Harry, and you’re the one cuddling with Ron,” she laughed and then looked away, as if ashamed of making a joke in a time like this.

Harry smiled slightly, but only to make her feel better.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours until Ron finally said, “What next?”

Harry stared out over the water for a long moment and tossed the remnants of the leaf aside. “I don’t know.”

***

Over the next few days, Harry remained at Hogwarts helping to fix things and organise the memorial. He was forced to think about the things that had happened on their quest for the Horcruxes and the people that had died in Voldemort’s wake. It was a painful process and he was starting to dream things.

Hermione remained at the castle with him, but Ron went with the rest of his family to stay in Hogsmeade. He, along with Ginny, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley came up to the castle every day to help out with restoring the castle.

The dormitories and the Great Hall had been the first things to be fixed and on the second morning of the Beginning of the End, the people that had elected to stay at the castle came shuffling in. The only words spoken were grunted or muttered.

Hermione sat across from Harry, nibbling on a piece of toast, while he stirred his drink around in its cup absent-mindedly.

The sound of wings flapping sounded overhead and everyone looked up to watch as owls flew into the Hall, dropping mail to their owners. Most of them were delivering newspapers.

“At least something is the same,” Harry muttered, finally pushing his drink away from him and digging through his pockets for some Knuts to give the owl. Hermione beat him to it though, and paid the owl before Harry could.

She lay the newspaper down on the table and Harry read the headlines upside down. The front page read “MINISTRY MOVING ON”. Next to the headline was a picture, in which Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dolores Umbridge and another man that Harry did not recognise stood side by side. Umbridge and the man looked ridiculously happy, but Kingsley remained expressionless.

“Umbridge is running for Minister!” Hermione exclaimed, her eyes clouding with anger. Harry snatched the paper from her hands and scanned the article.

“Who does she think she is? Running for Minister? After all she’s done?” He was close to shouting and people were starting to look. He lowered his voice. “No way she could win. Could she?”

“Not against Kingsley,” she said finally. “He’ll win for sure.”

“The election’s not til next week. Who knows what could happen by then?” He banged his hand on the table.

“Harry, please,” Hermione begged, her eyes darting around at the people that surrounded them.

“No, Hermione, it says here that more than half the Ministry was corrupted and will need to be rebuilt entirely! Which means they can’t start searching for Death Eaters or do _anything_ productive for at least a couple of weeks, if not more!”

“Harry, let’s not focus on that now. There’s still a lot of work to do here and you have the memorial to finish planning … Let’s just let Kingsley take care of the Ministry for now, okay?”

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before looking back to Hermione. “Okay.”

They stared at each other for a while, Hermione scrutinising him. “You look older, Harry.”

“I feel older,” he replied. He felt a thousand years old. His body and mind felt exhausted and weak and he felt as if he had experienced enough things to last him a millennium. He was tired and all he wanted to do was sleep and forget about what was going on around him.

They were quiet and then four of the nine – eight Weasleys arrived.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Take a look at this,” Harry said, tossing the newspaper over the table to Ron. As he read, Ginny, Bill and Charlie read over his shoulder.

“Kingsley will win,” Bill said. “Hands down.”

“But what about this Death Eater thing?” Harry demanded. Letting the remaining Death Eaters run loose was too dangerous a thing right now.

“We have to let the Ministry deal with it, Harry,” Charlie said.

“Whatever. I need to go.” He stood abruptly up from the table and walked from the Hall. Ginny was the only one that followed.

“Harry! Harry, wait! Harry James Potter!” The sharpness in her voice made him stop, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he let her catch up. She stood in front of him, her eyes narrowed and her red hair making her expression seem even more fierce.

“My brother and my friends have died, Harry. I do not need you to treat me like this. It’s not fair.”

While her words were true, Harry was not in the right frame of mind to acknowledge it. “I have a memorial to organise.” He pushed past her and started up the marble staircase.

“Is that all you’re going to say to me, Harry?” she shouted. The few that were in the entrance hall with them stopped to look on. “’I have a memorial to organise.’ That’s pathetic! It’s miserable where we’re staying and I really need you right now. I understand you’re hurting too, which is why I thought we could work through this together. Obviously, I was wrong.” She ran back into the Great Hall, tears threatening to pour down her cheeks.

He wanted to run after her, take her in his arms and tell her he was sorry, tell her that they _could_ work through this together. But he did not do any of those things. Instead, he turned around and continued up the marble staircase, to the Headmaster’s office, where he would meet with Professor McGonagall and the other Heads of House.

He didn’t bother knocking. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn all sat around the Headmaster’s desk. Professor Slughorn was using expressive hand gestures to prove his point to the other, much more tired looking three.

“Potter,” McGonagall said with a start, cutting Slughorn across midsentence. She put her spectacles back on and started shuffling through some papers. The others looked relieved to see him. “Sit, sit.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Have a biscuit.” She pointed at her biscuit tin. Harry had come to learn that eventually, he was going to take a biscuit, whether he wanted one or not, so he took a small, plain one and put it in his mouth whole.

“As I was saying, Minerva, it will just take too long to read all the names out. A lot of people died in this war. People will stop listening,” Slughorn sounded more whiney than persuasive.

“The point of a memorial, Horace, is to honour the dead. It will hardly be honourable if we don’t recognise all the lives that have been lost.”

“I agree. We can’t just act like they were worthless,” Professor Sprout said.

“But it won’t be like that. We’ll do it _tastefully_ … What do you think, Harry m’boy?”

“I agree with the other professors, sir. With all due respect, I think people will be upset if the names aren’t mentioned.”

“Yes, thank you, Potter. Now –“

“And I think,” he continued, “that we should also mention the people lost in the First Wizarding War. Of course, all this includes all magical creatures, house elves, goblins, centaurs, werewolves … Not just wizards.”

The four professors didn’t even attempt to hide their shock.

Professor McGonagall spoke first. “Potter, I don’t know –“

“I do know. And that’s what I want to happen.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sure that it can be arranged,” Professor Sprout said, her eyes sending a message to McGonagall to just _do it_.

“Yes,” McGonagall sighed finally. “I’m sure it can.”

“One more thing.”

McGonagall fixed him with a look that clearly said “ _You’re pushing it now, Potter_ ”.

“I want Snape’s name to be read out.”

The professors all gasped. Professor Flitwick almost fell out of his seat.

“I know what you all think of him, but I know the truth. And his name deserves to be on that list just as much as anyone else’s.” Harry’s voice was calm and reasonable, but it would not stay that way if they didn’t agree with him.

“No,” Professor McGonagall said firmly. “That is something I will not do.”

“Why not?” His voice started to rise.

“’Why not?’ Because of the terrible things he’s done, Potter, that’s why not! You of all people should know. I’m shocked that you’re even making such a request.”

“I do know, Professor! And while he did some terrible things, he did some really great things too.”

“What? What great things did he do?”

“You don’t know! No one knew …” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to share what he had seen in the Pensieve just days ago.

“Listen, Snape was in love with my mother. But she picked my dad and Snape had always had a tendency for the Dark side. But when he found out Voldemort was after my family, he went to Dumbledore and Dumbledore agreed to help protect us on the condition that Snape come to our side. It was under Dumbledore’s orders that Snape continued on as a Death Eater. It was under Dumbledore’s orders that Snape killed him that night on top of the Astronomy Tower. It was under Dumbledore’s orders that Snape did all the things he did, even when Dumbledore was gone. And it was all for the day that I would defeat Voldemort. Snape was a brave man in his own respect and his names deserves to be in this ceremony. I will get up and explain it all again if that’s what it’s going to take. Just put it in.”

McGonagall’s eyes were shining with tears at this point. A shaking hand held over her mouth, she nodded and wrote something down on a bit of parchment. Professor Sprout, noticing that he was trying to read it, nodded once. Harry sat back in his seat. This whole thing was emotionally draining.

“How do you know all this, Potter?” Flitwick’s voice seemed higher than usual.

“He – Snape gave me his memories before he died. I saw them in the Pensieve.”

The five of them all turned their heads toward the object. It sat unassuming in the same place it always had. Harry looked away before any of the others did, his eyes jumping to Dumbledore’s portrait.

He could have sworn it had winked at him.

***

“Hey, Harry, could you maybe, I don’t know, stop screwing my sister around?” Ron growled, pushing Harry back against the stone wall.

He had joined Ron, Hermione, Bill and Charlie in fixing up some of the damaged classrooms. Bill and Charlie were in one room, and Ron and Hermione were in another.

“Ron,” Hermione pleaded, but to no avail.

“It’s kind of a really dick move for you to be pulling on her, you know,” Ron continued. “She came running back into that Hall, almost crying, saying that you were being a total tosser and that she was going home. I hope you’re proud of yourself.” He kept pushing Harry after every sentence and looked close to throwing a punch by the time Hermione stepped in between them.

“Ron stop!” she shouted.

“Why, Hermione? Why? He _is_ being a total tosser!” He looked back at Harry now. “It’s not fair to her!”

“Ron!” Hermione snapped his attention back to her. “I agree. What Harry is doing isn’t right, but what you’re doing isn’t either. This isn’t the way to fix things.” She placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back away from Harry.

“Get it together, man. And then stay away from her. I don’t want you near her anymore.” He took another step, looked once between Harry and Hermione and stormed from the room.

Hermione looked hopelessly at Harry.

“Go.” He waved her away and her expression changed to one of thankfulness. She ran from the room too, looking to either side of the corridor before disappearing right.

A few choice swear words streamed from Harry’s mouth as he threw the furniture, punched the walls and finally the window, shattering it. Staring at the broken glass glittering on the floor, he walked back until he hit the wall, and sunk down it.

His hand was bleeding and his heart felt like it was too.

It hurt.

***

The memorial was held on the Tuesday, ten days after the war had ended, in the same place that Dumbledore’s was.

The smoke had lifted, but the Sun was hiding behind grey clouds. Hundreds upon hundreds of people filed into the white seats that had been set up as Harry stood nervously to one side, next to the sheet-covered memorial statue in which the names of all that had died in the war had been carved. They would unveil it at the end of the ceremony.

Harry looked out for people he knew, people he knew that if he looked at, he would feel alright. Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys. Hagrid. Ginny.

He blinked away from Ginny. She hadn’t even looked at him since their (admittedly, fairly one-sided) conversation in the Entrance Hall.

When everyone was seated, Professor McGonagall spoke first, to welcome everyone and say again how sorry she was for all the deaths that had happened inside and outside the Hogwarts grounds.

Then, the same man that had spoken at Dumbledore’s funeral spoke. Harry hated that man, the way he stood there, pretending to be sad and pretending to know what everyone was going through as he read out words that had been written for him. Harry wished the Giant Squid would make an appearance and take the man back into the lake with it.

Halfway through the man’s speech, most people were crying. Ron looked like he hated the man just as much as Harry did as Hermione clutched on to him, tears running down her cheeks. Mrs. Weasley was crying again, and Ginny was too. Hagrid’s sobs could be heard above everything else, violent things that sounded like they were trying to be held back but finally managed to break through.

Next Professors Slughorn, Flitwick and Sprout talked before it was Harry’s turn to stand up. He read out a speech about courage and inspiration and rebuilding that McGonagall had written for him and started to hate himself just as much as he hated the man. Harry was no better than him.

But it was what everyone wanted to hear. They didn’t want to hear about how angry he was, how much he hurt, how he had nightmares whenever he shut his eyes for more than two minutes, how whenever he thinks about anything, he just wants to scream because there is nothing that could be worse than what he could be feeling.

So with a certain drag and reluctance in his voice, he finished the speech and began with his own.

“Before I begin to read out the names of those who died in this war, I would like to provide you with a reason why a certain one is on this list. Most of you will know Severus Snape by the man who killed Albus Dumbledore and destroyed this school under his reign of headmaster. But as Severus Snape met his end, I became to know another man entirely.” He repeated the same story that he told the Professors in the Headmaster’s Office, telling of the Pensieve and its use and what Snape’s memories had shown him.

Ignoring the looks of outrage and disgruntled mutterings, Harry continued on to read out the list when he had finished, choking out the names when he recognised them. “Bathilda Bagshot … Sirius Black … Lavender Brown … Colin Creevey … Barty Crouch Senior … Cedric Diggory … Albus Dumbledore … Florean Fortescue … Griphook the Goblin … Dobby the House Elf … Bertha Jorkins … Igor Karkaroff … Frank Longbottom … Alice Longbottom … Remus Lupin … Nymphadora Lupin … Marlene McKinnon … Alastor Moody … James Potter … Lily Potter … Fabian Prewett … Gideon Prewett … Rufus Scrimgeour … Severus Snape … Ted Tonks … Fred Weasley …”

There were too many names on that list.

“I would now like to present our Memorial Statue. On it is carved every name of those that have lost their lives in this war.”

With quite the flourish, Professor Slughorn whipped the sheet off the statue and it gleamed white and new. The crowd rose and while most walked over to the statue, some stayed among the chairs, dissipating into small comfort groups, where they clutched and spoke to each other.

Harry walked aimlessly towards them, wanting to find Ron and Hermione, but running into Andromeda Tonks instead.

Her eyes were red and puffy as she held on to a green-haired, pig-snouted baby. Teddy.

“Harry,” she breathed out.

“Andromeda, hi.”

“That was really lovely what you said. The whole ceremony was lovely.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you thought so. I’m sorry for everyone you have lost.”

“Thank you.” There was a small silence. “This is Teddy. Would you like to hold your godson?” She said, tears welling up in her eyes again.

Harry stared at her for a moment and then at Teddy before finally nodding and holding his arms out to take Teddy. Andromeda placed him carefully in Harry’s arms, reminding him to support his neck.

Teddy’s eyes turned a bright green as he looked at Harry, his hair turning jet black.

“He can’t control his Metamorphagus, his changes are random.”

Harry shook his head, as if to say that was okay and watched Teddy watch him back. Then, just as Harry thought he was opening his mouth to laugh, his face turned red and he started to scream. Andromeda hurriedly took him out of Harry’s arms, said a quick goodbye and hurried away.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice sounded from behind him and as soon as he turned around, she took him in her arms. He was a head taller than her now, and he thought about the first time he had met her at Platform Nine and Three Quarters as an unsure little boy looking up to her and wondering if it was all a big prank.

Some prank.

“The ceremony was lovely, dear.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

She smiled up at him, a sheen of tears coating her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Hagrid and saying a hurried goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, walked over to him. He looked as shattered as Harry felt.

“Hagrid,” Harry breathed out, stopping quickly and looking up to the giant of a man, who somehow, looked smaller than he usually did.

“Harry,” he nodded his head and looked around before finally giving up and sweeping Harry into a (literally) bone-crushing hug.

When he let go, he pulled a giant handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose into it, a loud trumpet-like sound. “Tha ceremony was lovely.”

Harry grit his teeth and nodded.

“Tha’ – tha’ thing ye said abou’ Snape …”

“It’s true, Hagrid. All of it.”

Hagrid drew in a great big breath and blew into his handkerchief again. “Dumbledore … he always knew … didn’t he?”

He wasn’t making much sense, but Harry nodded anyway. “Yeah, he did.”

Wiping his nose, Hagrid nodded his head in a direction behind Harry. “Ron and Hermione are waiting for ye, Harry. I’ll see ye later.” Patting Harry on the shoulder a couple of times, he turned around and walked away, towards the burnt remains of his hut.

Harry also turned around and walked towards his two best friends. While he and Ron were talking, the air between them was still cold. Hermione played the wooden log holding on to the last embers of the fire, though it didn’t seem to be working.

Hermione gave him a weak smile as he approached, but Ron was looking somewhere else, his stubbled jaw set, his eyes stormy.

Harry stopped in front of them, and tensed up. “Hey,” he said.

“I swear to Merlin, if one more person says ‘The ceremony was lovely’ I’m gonna-“

“Ron,” Hermione soothed him, rubbing his arm. “Calm down. It’s alright.”

“I think they’re forgetting the reason for the lovely bloody ceremony,” Ron spat.

“Ron, that’s an awful thing to say! Of course they’re not forgetting!” she snapped and then looked down. Harry saw something click in Ron’s head, though it was gone in a minute.

Hermione looked up and over at something. “I’m going to talk to Hagrid.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment when she was gone, then Ron spun, punching the air before running his hand through his dead-looking hair. He watched the people gathered around the memorial statue and then looked back to Harry.

“You know what we have to do next, right?” he said.

Harry looked into the trees of the Forbidden Forest. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.”


	2. Searching

_Dear Fred,_

_George and I went and sat in The Three Broomsticks on Tuesday after the memorial, which sucked by the way. He cracked open a bottle of some strong-smelling stuff and drank two glasses of it before I was even halfway through my first. Then we talked about the war and how angry we were and I said there was no escape and he said that it never ends, it never ends, it never ends. Then he downed his fourth glass and we were quiet for a while. After his fifth glass, he said he keeps looking for you, keeps calling your name, or wondering what you’re doing or where you are, or turning to you with some genius joke or idea. He said he’s kind of getting sick and tired of you not being there because he’s forced to think about how it never ends, it never ends, it never ends. It kind of made me realise that mum and dad lost a son and the rest of us lost a brother but George lost something else entirely when you died. After his seventh glass, he ordered another bottle and told me that he writes letters to you. ‘I waved Mum off and told her she was being daft when she suggested it, but then I was sitting there one night and I got to writing and now I write to him every day,’ he said. Then he started on his eighth glass and I started on my second. He passed out after his tenth glass, so I took him home and two mornings later, I was meeting Harry and Neville at Hogsmeade Station. I wasn’t expecting Neville but after what he did I wasn’t about to say that he couldn’t come. He looked happy, despite everything, which made me feel sick. Harry looks a mess these days. I suppose I probably do too. Hermione is really worried about us, she’ll probably have a fit when she realises we’re gone and finds out exactly what it is we’re doing. ‘Another stupid mission that we should leave for the adults.’ That’s what dad said. But tell me, when do we get to be considered adults? When do the ‘Golden Trio’, as they’re calling us now, get to be thought of as grown-ups, who maybe, just maybe, have some idea what they’re doing? We did go on a search for Horcruxes and were the ones that defeated Voldemort in the end, after all. I was talking to Hagrid about all this and he said that in a time like this, there are no grown-ups, just people who are just confused about what to do as anyone else. I best be signing off now, Fred. Neville’s snoring and Harry’s looking at me funny. Keep an eye on everyone._

_\- Ron_

***

Neville was the one to wake Harry and Ron up in the morning. The sun was just beginning to rise and its bright orange rays were shining in through the small holes of their tent. Bloody tents. Harry hated them and when he returned to Hogwarts before the battle, he was hoping he never had to spend another night in one ever again.

He should have known better than that.

Ron looked equally as angry and disgruntled as Harry felt. Ron didn’t exactly have the fondest memories of tents either.

They ate a small breakfast in silence and then, backs turned on each other, they got dressed into a change of clothes before packing up the tent and apparating into a small and supposedly abandoned village.

The dilapidated grey buildings seemed to stretch out for miles, all of them very close together and similar in appearance. The glass was missing from the window panes in most of them, the doors were boarded up, the rooves were sagging in and the wood had rot away in places. The roads in between the streets were dirt and strewn with dead weeds and debris and the three boys tread them carefully, not daring to split up.

There was a long row of houses on their left, but on their right the streets were split by roads. At each T-section, they looked down the street in search of any activity, but after a long search, they came up short.

“Neville, are you sure you got the right information? There’s nothing here,” Ron said, suddenly stopping and throwing his hands up in the air.

“I’m sure. We’re going to find some here,” Neville assured the other two and kept walking, his wand at the ready.

“Harry, there’s nothing here,” Ron muttered quietly to Harry.

The two walked a few steps behind Neville, wands also held out in front of them.

“I don’t think there is either,” Harry admitted after a while. “But Neville trusts whoever he got his information from and I trust Neville. We’ll search for a while and if there’s nothing, we’ll leave.”

“We’re wasting our time!” Ron said, his voice raising a bit. “Well, we’ve got nothing better at the moment!”

Harry found himself raising his voice back, but before he could tell Ron he didn’t want a repeat of their hunt for Horcruxes, Neville turned around and beckoned them forward, shushing them with a gesture. He led them down a road and then the three of them crept in between two houses, being careful not to knock anything over, which proved difficult due to all the clutter around the side of the houses.

“I saw movement around here,” Neville whispered to them, his face screwed up in concentration. “And look at the doors of this section of houses. None of them are boarded up.”

Harry and Ron both craned their heads to look. A group of about six houses didn’t have the doors boarded up like the other houses did. One of the houses had its door slightly ajar and there was a faint flickering light in another.

“Death Eaters?” Ron said.

“I doubt it’s anything else,” Harry said. They all barged forward at once, each of them busting into a separate house. It was probably the dumbest plan they could have come up with considering the likely 12:3 ratio, but between the eagerness of the three of them, it was the best one.

Harry threw open the door of the house with the light on. A middle-aged man with a sunken face jumped back from the kitchen counter in surprise and the other two that were sleeping on the floor jerked awake suddenly, wide eyes looking around frantically. The body-binding spell he used seemed unnecessary; they weren’t moving for shock anyway. It took all of his strength to hold the spell and he had to act fast as he switched from that one to one that shot a rope out of the end of his wand and tied the three together.

“If you even try to escape,” he warned, his voice dropping to an octave that made him sound cold and evil, “I will find you and I will make sure your death is slow and painful, just like Voldemort’s.”

They all blanched at that and Harry was grateful that they were some of the cowardly Death Eaters. If they had been one of his strongest followers, his comment might have had a very different effect. He wanted to leave and to go and find some more, but he seemed stuck. A shout from a few houses down unfroze Harry and he bolted from the one he was in to the source of the sound. He tripped over the chair that was toppled over in the doorway and almost tripped again over a door that was almost off its hinges. He walked into the disarrayed room to find a beaten and bloody Neville being cornered by four Death Eaters. One lay on the ground, bleeding from the head, and he was trying to fight off the others, but there were too many and they were ganging up on him.

Immediately, Harry threw one back to the other side of the room with a spell. The surprise distracted the other three for a long enough moment for Neville to punch one and then stupefy another. The third was quick to act against Harry though and put on a very good duel. One of Harry’s wrists snapped painfully and his shoulder got hit by a nasty spell before Neville stupefied his opponent and tied him up like he had tied the other four.

“There was only one in the other house,” Neville told Harry. His nose was bleeding, but he was a lot easier to understand than that time in the Ministry of Magic when he had a bleeding nose. “I took care of it. He’s tied up.”

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked, slightly out of breath.

“I don’t know,” Neville said, but Harry was already walking from the house. He saw a flash of yellow light in one the houses and hurried in, Neville following closely behind.

Harry was first relieved to see that Ron was standing upright and didn’t look to be too injured, but then terrified at the look on his face and the state of the bodies around him.

“I got three houses, this was the last one that looked like there was anyone living here,” Ron said, not looking at Neville and Harry and wiping the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve. “What about you guys?”

“Yeah, we got the others. They’re all tied up,” Harry told him and Ron finally looked at him.

“You two should go scope out the rest of the houses, I’ll deal with the others.”

Harry and Neville did as Ron said. They found one or two more, but they apparated before either side could do much damage. A few other houses looked like they had been inhabited, but there were signs that people had fled. They must have heard the shouts and screams of the others. When they returned to where Ron was, they found him sitting on the crooked steps of the house that Harry went in on his own. He was covered in fresh blood and breathing heavily.

“Merlin, Ron, are you alright?” Harry asked rushing forward toward Ron.

“Yeah, the blood’s not mine,” Ron grunted and waved Harry off.

Neville stepped over the steps and into the house. Harry cast a glance at Ron and then followed Neville in. He almost threw up at the sight of three bodies almost morphed together and bleeding from several places. All three were staring blankly at the ceiling. Neville, who had gone white in the face, left the room quickly and Harry thought he could hear him puking. Harry just kept staring. The bodies reminded him of his duel with Malfoy in the bathroom during sixth year.

“You used Sectumsempra?” Harry demanded when he walked back out.

It took Ron a second to look up at Harry and when he did, his blue eyes looked dead.

“Avada Kedavra wasn’t working,” he said, trying to scrape some dry blood off his cracked hands with his short and bitten nails.

Neville came back from around the house, his face now a little green and his eyes regarding Ron with something Harry couldn’t quite place his finger on. Was it respect? No. It was disgust, and fear.

“We best be going then,” Ron said and held his arm out for Harry and Neville to take. He was cradling his other one to his chest. It was already starting to bruise.

Cautiously, the other two took it and he immediately apparated them into yet another wood of some sort. Harry recognised it as the same one that he and half of the Weasleys ran through when Death Eaters were attacking during the Quidditch Cup.

After dealing with their injuries (Harry had a broken wrist, a sprained ankle and a very swollen shoulder; Ron had a fractured arm and fractured cheekbone; Neville had a broken nose and a couple of broken ribs), they set up their tent in a well-concealed part of the wood, but Harry still cast concealment and protection charms. They hadn’t had any problems so far, but they had only been doing this for a few days.

They remained in awkward silence until Harry decided to speak up. “Did you kill all those people?”

Ron seemed to be searching through his rucksack for something, but all he was really doing was making a mess that either Neville or Harry would have to clean up.

“They weren’t people Harry; they were Death Eaters.”

“That doesn’t mean they deserved to die,” Harry said calmly, but Ron exploded.

“There were a lot of people in this war, Harry, that ‘didn’t deserve to die’! But they still did! They’re dead and the people that killed them are still alive!”

“You don’t know that any of those people actually killed anyone!” Harry shouted back.

“It doesn’t matter! They were still Death Eaters and they still supported the idea that death and killing and war is okay and that’s deserving enough!”

“Don’t you think that you are also supporting that idea by killing them? You just killed about fifteen people in the last hour on the grounds that they may or may not have actually done something bad!”

“Oh, they’ve done something bad, trust me,” Ron growled, now stuffing everything he had pulled out viciously back into the rucksack.

“Well, now you’ve got fifteen murders on your hands, what are you going to do about that? You should have just stuck to the plan!”

“The plan was stupid! Call a Ministry official to come get them so they can go to Azkaban, where the Dementors are missing or out of control? The Ministry is corrupted, you read it yourself! And besides, the reason we’re on this bloody trip hunting for Death Eaters is because the Ministry is too much of a mess to do it themselves! It was a stupid idea and no one is going to care that all those people are dead, let alone that I killed them! They deserved what they got!” Harry was about to interject but Ron stopped him. “You want those people dead too, I know you do. You’ve been talking about it for weeks, for years. Why have you got your wand in a twist about it all of a sudden? Because I did it? Because I was the one to kill them? Harry, you don’t need to feel bad about it. They should be dead, they belong in the ground. No one is going to miss them because they’re too busy missing the people that those filthy scumbag Death Eaters killed.” Ron turned away and grabbed his radio, turning it on and tuning it, trying to get a signal. He was listening for anything that could even remotely be Death Eaters.

Harry didn’t say any more on the subject, although the whole idea of it still sat uneasily with him. This Ron was not the Ron he knew.

Defeated, he went to sit outside the tent with Neville, who was reading a book.

“This isn’t Ron,” Harry muttered, half to Neville, half to himself.

“War makes monsters of us all,” Neville said in reply, looking at Harry sadly.

It wasn’t what Harry had wanted to hear.

***

_Dear Remus,_

_I noticed Ron writing to Fred the other night. He denied it, but I think it might be a good idea. Or at least worth trying. We’ve been hunting Death Eaters for a month now. It’s getting tiring and I think it is making the nightmares worse. Ron doesn’t sleep either, so I have no idea how Neville is managing to snore all throughout the night. Ron still thinks we should kill them on sight, but now that Kingsley has been elected Minister for Magic and they are slowly sorting through the corruptions, I’ve been trying to convince him to let the Ministry take care of it. There have been a few times where he has agreed, but mostly he just wants to kill them. Neville and I have managed to sneak out at night a few times to do a couple searches on our own. We tie them up, we call the Ministry and then we leave before they get there. I imagine everyone at home is worrying their flobberworms off. Hermione is going to kill the pair of us and then Mrs. Weasley is going to cook us into a stew. Neville will probably get to live, although his grandmother might cut his arms and legs off. I held Teddy for the first and only time at the memorial over a month ago. As soon as you told me that Tonks was pregnant, I was imagining holding your child for the first time very differently. Then the picture changed again when you asked me to be his godfather. I thought you and Tonks would be there for starters. And you two would be happy and smiling and Teddy would be a happy baby with both his parents and I would have not a care in the world at that moment even if Voldemort was still alive. But now Voldemort is dead and so are you and so is Tonks and about hundred other people that I love and I don’t know what to do with that. I have been a lousy godfather and I just wanted to say I’m sorry to you for that. I’ve been talking to Kingsley and he said we should be right to come home soon because Ministry officials he trusted were going to be put on the job. And then I can be there for Teddy the way you and Sirius were there for me. It won’t make up for the loss of his parents, but with you for a father and Tonks for a mother, I think he will be quite the boy anyway. I have so many more things I want to say to you and yet none come to mind. The only thing I can say is sorry. I know you’re happy up there, now that you’re reunited with your best friends. Say hi to Dad and Sirius for me. If you can stop them from messing around long enough to do so. Ron is cursing in his sleep, he’s going to wake up soon. I better go. I’ll be seeing Teddy soon. Keep an eye on everyone._

_\- Harry_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Hope y'all liked it! If you did, leave some kudos or a comment if you're feeling generous. Tell me, did you prefer this chapter length or the length of chapter one?


	3. Home

 On a particularly nasty night, when Harry and Neville couldn’t wake a thrashing, sweating, screaming Ron up from his nightmare, a letter arrived by owl. Harry recognised it as Kingsley’s owl and left Neville with Ron while he went outside to read it, his wand tip illuminating the words. It was only a short note, but it was the best few sentences he had read in months:  
  
 _We have found three Death Eater hotspots already and I have my best men on the job as you read this note. You can go home now. – Kingsley_  
  
Harry sighed out in relief and allowed a small smile to break out on his face. He could go home. But where was home? Hogwarts? The Burrow? He did not know anymore.  
  
When he walked back in the tent, Ron was sitting upright, but he was still not awake. He was still screaming and wailing, his cries getting softer and then loud again.  
  
Neville was sitting in front of him, shaking him violently and trying out a few different spells, but nothing was working.   
  
Harry shoved Neville out of the way, a little harder than he meant to, but Neville looked too terrified to care. He sat in front of Ron, shaking his shoulders and finally he shouted, “Ron, Hermione is in trouble!”  
  
Ron’s eyes snapped open suddenly and everything in the tent was eerily quiet as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Harry handed a white-faced Neville Kingsley’s note and told him to go outside. Neville took it gingerly and walked quickly from the tent, looking gratefully at Harry.  
  
Ron wiped the tears from his face and flopped back down in rage. “Was I screaming? Crying?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said quietly, looking for a flask or a bottle with water in it.  
  
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Ron said as he took the bottle Harry had found and drank from it, his ears going red and his eyes looking down towards his lap like he was a kid that had just wet the bed.   
  
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”  
  
“Neville does.”  
  
“He doesn’t care either. He gets them too,” Harry said quietly.  
  
Ron looked at him questioningly.  
  
“During the day. You just don’t notice.” They sat in silence while Harry thought of Neville’s day tremors. They would be talking or working together on a search when all of a sudden, Neville would freeze up and his eyes would slip out of focus and he would shake while he tried to fight out of whatever he was seeing. “We can go home.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I just got the note from Kingsley,” Harry told him, allowing another smile. He’s already found some Death Eaters and he’s got his best men on the job right now. We don’t have to do this anymore.”  
  
Although Ron didn’t show it, Harry could tell he was happy about this. Harry could also tell he was dying to ask a million questions, mostly likely about how they were going about it and what they were going to do with the Death Eaters they found, but his thirst won out and Ron took to drinking water over asking those questions.   
  
Eventually, Ron’s shaking stopped and he managed to go back to sleep with little problem. Neville took a bit longer but soon was also snoring.   
  
Harry dreamt of his memory with the ghosts of his family in the Forbidden Forest, except halfway through, they turned into Voldemort and his Death Eaters and surrounded him, drowning him.   
  
He woke up from the dream with a start and was first surprised and then pleased to see Ginny curled up next to him, her fiery hair spread across the pillow as she slept peacefully, her warm breath tickling his collarbone.  
  
He woke up again, for real this time, and felt a sudden emptiness both inside of him and next to him. The very real possibility that he had blown his chance of ever having that with her again was what kept him up for the rest of the night.  
  
***  
  
Even Neville woke up late the next morning; and he was always the first one up. By the time they had eaten something small, dressed and packed up the tent, it was mid-afternoon.   
  
Harry apparated them back to Hogsmeade Station. From there, they would walk up to Hogwarts castle which Harry knew from walking up in sixth year was going to be long and tiring.   
  
They looked quite the sight; three obviously tired and injured men walking (or limping, in Harry and Neville’s case) up the path, tripping every now and again over a rock or pothole. Their hair was dirty as were the rest of them. In the month a bit while they were gone, they managed to find places every now and again where they could shower, but they were mostly covered in muck and grime. They clothes were equally, if not more dirty, and were ripped and coming away in places.   
  
Harry switched his rucksack over to his uninjured shoulder. It was still out of place from when he was hit with the spell in their first attack. They had all tried popping it back in, but every time they did, it would pop out of place in another spot. Eventually, it got too swollen for them to keep trying and they had finally given up. His wrist was mostly better, but it still hurt and he couldn’t use it to its full capability and he had cuts in several places that just didn’t seem to be healing.   
  
Ron looked even more beaten up than Harry did. He had cuts down his back and one on the right side of his face, that started in his hairline and didn’t end until under his chin. He also had some nasty bruising all up and down his left leg, caused from spell that none of three could recognise. His cheekbone hadn’t healed properly either so his cheek was bent in an odd way.  
  
Neville looked the worst. He had a horrible burn that started under his left ear, spread down his neck and down his arm, all the way to his fingertips. There were several tiny cuts all over his face. He had a cut lip and a black eye and he walked as if his whole body had just given up on him.   
  
The late June sun beat heavily down on them as they walked and it took all of their strength to push open the castle’s front doors. There were many people bustling around in the Entrance Hall, but they stopped and stared for a moment at the sight of the three of them staring in the doorway, minutes away from collapsing.   
  
“Harry, m’boy!” came Slughorn’s voice, sounding exactly how it had in sixth year.  
  
“Potter, Weasley, Longbottom!” Professor McGonagall’s voice was frantic and laced with worry as she rushed forward toward the them.  
  
“Professor,” Neville smiled weakly. “Is the Hospital Wing in order?”  
  
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said and ducked her head under his arm, allowing him to lean into her for support. Two students rushed forward to do the same for Harry and Ron. A girl that looked to be in sixth or seventh year seemed more interested in touching Ron’s chest than actually helping him. It looked like he was holding her up rather than the other way around.   
  
The boy helping Harry looked only young in the face, fourth or fifth year, but he was twice as wide and about a foot taller. He looked utterly starstruck and almost lifted Harry off the ground a few times on the way to the Hospital Wing.  
  
Only a few other beds were occupied and Harry, Ron and Neville were rushed to the three closest to the door. Harry and Neville were laid down gingerly, but Ron had no such luck. His partner didn’t want to let go of him and he had to push her away from him, a little roughly.   
  
Madam Pomfrey came rushing out from her office. Her eyes became frantic and her face turned to one of stress when she caught sight of the state of them.  
  
“Mr. Thomas!” she called over her shoulder before shooing the others out. Professor McGonagall and the boy left quickly, but the girl needed a little extra convincing and coaxing from Dean Thomas to leave.  
  
“Mr. Thomas, I need you to go and get the wound-cleaning potion, the star grass salve, the bruise removing paste, the burn healing paste and the murtlap essence and make it quick!”  
  
Dean came back quickly and let the contents in his arms spill over onto one of the bed’s side tables.   
  
“Start applying that to Mr. Longbottom’s burns,” she told him, pointing quickly to the burn healing paste. He did as he was told and Madam Pomfrey got to mending Harry’s wrist and Ron’s cheek with a quick spell before starting to apply the bruise removal paste to Ron’s leg. Harry recognised it as one of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products and chuckled slightly to himself, letting his head rest back against the pillow.  
  
He looked up when he heard the doors open again and saw Luna rush in. She stopped, looked around at everyone in the room and said, “Wrackspurts. Wrackspurts everywhere,” before turning to Neville, her eyes the most furious Harry had seen them.  
  
“Neville Longbottom!” she shouted, walking purposefully toward his bed. “I could kill you!”  
  
She calmly took the paste from Dean and then applied it, a little too forcefully to Neville’s burns.  
  
“Please don’t,” he winced and her touch became gentle. Seeing this, Dean let her continue and rushed off to make the murtlap essence into a paste and fetch the restorative draught, as per Madam Pomfrey’s orders.  
  
Finished with Ron’s bruises, she began to cover Harry’s cuts with the wound-cleaning potion and then the murtlap paste. Dean did the same with Ron’s.  
  
“Do you work in here now or something?” Ron asked him, wincing as Dean touched the cut on his face with the antiseptic.  
  
“Yeah. Madam Pomfrey needed the help and to be frank,” he lowered his voice, “she is getting on a bit. Someone is going to have to take over. And besides, I’ve been thinking of becoming a Healer for a while now. Take your shirt off.”  
  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
  
Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting to ‘be sensitive’. You need to take your shirt off now so I can apply some of the antiseptic and the paste to your scars.”  
  
“How are those cuts looking, Mr. Thomas?” Madam Pomfrey asked Dean harshly.  
  
“Pretty clean, Madam Pomfrey. I don’t think they will need any further care.”  
  
“How did you know I had –“ Ron began to ask, pulling his shirt off over his head.  
Dean hissed at the cuts on Ron’s chest. “I could see these peeking out from your collar.” He pointed to them and then started putting the antiseptic and the paste on them. When Ron had turned around so Dean could attend to the ones on his back, Dean laughed a little and said, “I bet you wish Hermione were here so she could do this, eh?”  
  
“Hermione’s not here?”  
  
Harry’s ears perked up at this, but he was quickly distracted by the initial stinging of the murtlap essence. “Oh, suck it up boy,” Madam Pomfrey scolded him and he scowled, straining again to hear Ron and Dean’s conversation, Ron growing louder with every sentence.  
  
“She was working up here for a while – she’s furious with you by the way – and then one day she just stopped coming. I looked for her and asked around, but no one had seen her or knew where she went. When I asked your dad he said that she had gone to take care of some personal things but I shouldn’t worry because she was safe.”  
  
Ron relaxed a little, but not much. “How does he know she’s safe?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“You don’t know?!”  
  
“Mr. Thomas! You know better than to stress the patients!” Madam Pomfrey snapped at Dean.   
  
“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” he said and gave Ron a look that said, ‘Stop, you’re going to get me in trouble.’  
  
At that moment, the doors of the Hospital Wing burst open and Mr. Weasley, Bill and Ginny burst in and looked around for a moment before spotting Ron and walking over to his bedside.  
  
“My patients are not ready for visitors yet!” Madam Pomfrey said, but everyone ignored her.  
  
“Where’s Hermione?” Ron shouted, his face red.  
  
“Oh, she’s furious with you,” Bill told him, shaking his head.  
  
Mr. Weasley sighed. “She’s in Australia.”  
  
“Australia?!” Ron was close to hysterical.  
  
“Like I said, my patients are not ready for visitors!” Madam Pomfrey barked. “You are causing one in particular to be very stressed out and that is not what he needs, so out!” Under the glare of Madam Pomfrey, the three slowly walked out. Ginny looked like she very much wanted to stay, but walked out anyway. Harry supposed mostly because her father was urging her to, but he suspected it was because her was there too.   
  
All was quiet in the Hospital Wing, aside from Ron’s angry mutterings, until they heard a shrill shriek from outside the doors.   
  
“What do you mean they won’t let you in?” A pause. “Well, they’re going to let me in, I’m his mother!”  
  
The doors flew open again, but this time it was Mrs. Weasley that came storming in.  
  
“Ronald Weasley! You are in so much trouble, young man! When Hermione gets back, she’s going to kill you and then I’m going to cook you into a stew!”  
  
“ _She’s_  going to kill  _me_?” Ron said in disbelief. “She’s the one who went running off without telling anyone!”  
  
“As are you! Except Hermione did tell someone! She told me and she told your father and she told Ginny! I believe she may have told Hagrid as well, which is a lot more than you did! You had us all worried sick! No one knew where you were or what you were doing, whether you were even alive!”   
  
She glared at him, before looking over to Harry. “Harry, dear, are you alright? Are you hurt? Oh look at you, of course you’re hurt!”” She rushed over to him, inspecting his cuts and bruises. Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at her, but didn’t say anything.   
  
“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”  
  
She fussed over him for a moment longer before saying, “Well, don’t think you’ve been let off the hook. Hermione is angry at you too and I can’t say I’m extremely pleased either.”  
  
She fixed him with a look before turning back to Ron to dig into him further.  
  
When Harry looked over, she had snatched whatever it was from Dean – Harry was too tired to be able to tell what it was – and was applying it to Ron’s skin.  
  
“Ouch! Mum!”  
  
“Oops, sorry dear,” she said, but Harry had the feeling she was not sorry at all.  
  
***  
  
The three of them could return home just over a week later when Madam Pomfrey was absolutely sure they were fully healed. It was Dean’s opinion that they should have left three days earlier than they did, but Madam Pomfrey glared him down when he had suggested it.   
  
Neville returned home to his grandmother’s and Harry and Ron went back to the Burrow.   
  
It was quite comical, really, how Harry was waited on hand and foot by Mrs. Weasley, but Ron was constantly being put to work. Ron didn’t share this opinion.   
  
The house was very quiet without Fred. He and George were always the ones making all the noise, but nowadays George kept himself cooped up in his bedroom.   
  
Bill had gone back to work at Gringotts. A lot needed to be done since Voldemort’s goblin massacre and they needed him there.  
  
Mr. Weasley was also crazy busy at the Ministry, leaving early in the morning and not getting home until late at night. Most days it seemed like it was just Ron, Mrs. Weasley and Harry in the house. Ginny was also there, but she was very careful to avoid Harry. When he entered a room, she would abruptly leave it, sometimes not even making the effort to make up some lame excuse for as to why.  
  
Harry stayed in Ron’s room, which looked exactly how it did the last time he had been it. They spent most of their time in there, although sometimes they would wander downstairs into the living room and occasionally, on a good day, they would go outside and fly around. They quickly tired of that though, and it never lasted long.  
  
Four days after they had returned, a knock came at the door not long after dinner. Mrs. Weasley had gone upstairs to George’s room and Ginny was upstairs in her own. Harry and Ron were both sitting in the kitchen at the table, but Ron was the one to get up and open the door.  
  
The person who stood there went quickly from a tired contentedness to a red-faced anger at the sight of Ron.   
  
“Hermione,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is up (obviously)! Hope you liked it and hope you're enjoying the story. Recently, my laptop got a virus and I lost all the planning to this story! So I had to sit down and replot it and replan it. Fortunately, I really really like the new plans and I think this story is going to be so much fun to write!
> 
> If you did like this chapter, please leave some kudos. It only takes a second and it really makes an author's day. If you REALLY liked it, you're more than welcome to leave a wee little comment too ;)


	4. Talking.

Ron ran. Hermione was going to kill him and he knew it. 

“Don’t think that I can’t still kill you just because you’re running, Ronald Weasley!” she shouted at him, furious. 

He used the dining chair to jump onto and across the table and then another to get down. He ran into the living room and then Harry heard his footsteps stop and a short squeal escape him. Hermione stormed in after him, her eyes looking more lethal with every second.

Harry positioned himself in the kitchen so he could see Ron and the back of Hermione, who were standing on opposite sides of the living room.

“What were you thinking?” she shrieked. “You had me worried sick! I just woke up one morning and you were gone, with no explanation! You can’t even begin to imagine how that felt! Or what it did to your family! They had no idea where you were! You are an asshole, Ronald Weasley! An asshole and an idiot! What if something had happened to any of you? We here, oblivious to what you were even doing barging off like that, would have had no idea! Thank Merlin Harry had a sliver of common sense and contacted Kingsley, otherwise we all still would be pulling our hair out and worrying ourselves to death! You know, I don’t even know why we wasted our time doing so!”  
She was breathing heavily and Harry could see her shoulders moving up and down. While Ron looked like he wanted to say something, he didn’t; he was too scared to at the moment.

“And you!” Hermione almost roared, walking back into the kitchen and pointing an accusatory finger at Harry, “You! I bet this was your bloody stupid idea! And you managed to convince his half-witted mind,” she motioned back to Ron wildly, “that it was a good one! Don’t think for a second we weren’t worried about you too!” She turned back to Ron for a second. “You know, it was just what your mother needed at a time like this! Did you even think about how your little stunt would affect her? Or your father? Or the rest of your family? Of course you didn’t, because you were too focused on yourselves and your stupid, stupid mission!” She stepped closer to Harry. He had hoped she would have cooled off by now, but it seemed she was only just getting started. “And what were you thinking, taking poor Neville along with you? I know he is perfectly capable, but think about what it must have done to his poor grandmother and what it is doing to him now! What it was doing to him then!”

“He wanted to come with us,” Harry told her, trying not to get too mad. “He insisted that he come with us.”

By this time, Mrs. Weasley, George and Ginny had wandered downstairs and were watching the scene unfold before them. Ginny and George looked highly amused and Mrs. Weasley looked conflicted between wanting to calm Hermione down and wanting her to continue digging into them. Apparently the latter won out.

“Oh, and don’t even get me started on your preparation skills!” she scoffed, still hysterical and ignoring both Harry’s comment and their three audience members.

“What did you take, three rucksacks? And did you even bother thinking about your health? Did you even take perhaps a small vial of Dittany?” Her tone had turned patronising, but rose to a shout again when Ron tried to interject. “Don’t you dare even lie to me, Ronald, I know you didn’t!” 

“What about you, going to Australia?” Ron’s voice was raised, but is sounded weak and the look on his face told Harry he regretted saying it before it even finished leaving his mouth.

Hermione pulled her wand out so fast Harry thought for a split second it had apparated into her hand. With a flick, she had thrown Ron across the room and had him on the floor, his hand cradling his nose.

The others in the room all looked up to where Mr. Weasley was standing in the back doorway. He was home from work. He looked shocked and confused. “Did I miss something?”

***

Mrs. Weasley decided to step in then, fixing Ron’s nose with a quick spell and sending him quickly up to bed. He muttered something about how he was an adult, but did as he was told nonetheless. 

She then hugged Hermione and offered her a bed for the night, but Hermione politely declined, saying that she and her parents were staying at a room in town and that she would visit tomorrow morning to tell Mrs. Weasley all about Australia. 

A lot calmer than she had been just a few minutes ago, she walked past Harry to get to the door. She opened it, closed it again and turned to Harry. “You can tell Ron,” she said to him, her voice low and threatening, “that if he so much as mentions Australia to me, I will make a lot more than his nose bleed.” Her voice was cheerful though as she bid farewell to the others and left.

They were all silent for a while and then, Mrs. Weasley told Mr. Weasley about the stew in the fridge and ushered George back up the stairs. Ginny still stood in the middle of the stairway, a half smile on her face. Harry walked up and stopped next to her, muttering, “You can just never tell with those two, can you?”

She laughed once and turned her head towards him. Her smile immediately disappeared and her face turned cold and stony. She turned away and disappeared up the stairs. Harry did not move until he heard the closing noise of her bedroom door. 

***

Harry, Ron and Neville walked quietly through the forest until they reached the clearing where they knew the Death Eaters would be. Hiding behind the thick black trunks of the trees, they evaluated the scene before them. In the middle of the gravelly clearing was a tent, a pale olive green and seemingly small, but Harry knew better than to think it was the same size on the inside. Two Death Eaters sat outside it, on either side, keeping watch. One of them had fallen asleep and the other looked like he was close to it. Harry gestured for the other two to follow him. He led them to where the sleeping one was. It would be easier to attack from that side. There was no way of knowing how many were inside the tent, but taking knowledge from their previous searches, Death Eaters never camped out in large groups; there was too much mistrust and uneasiness between them all. And most of them had no idea what they were doing since they didn’t have their leader anymore.

 

Quietly, they crept up on him and placed him in a binding spell. It woke him up, but he couldn’t make sound and he couldn’t move. Quickly, Harry disarmed the other one and Neville stunned him. Ron ran into the tent and immediately there were flashes of light and the sounds of screams. Two women came scurrying out, hair wild looking and still in their nightclothes. 

 

Together Harry and Neville managed to take care of them with ease, but without really knowing where they were coming, Death Eaters were swarming all around them, more than they could count or handle. Ron appeared from inside the tent and immediately jumped into the action, but the three of them against the dozens of Death Eaters was nowhere near enough.

 

The Death Eaters were grabbing them and hitting them with spell after spell. Harry was getting dizzy and he could feel blood trickling down his body from all different places.   
Both Ron and Neville looked equally bloody and Ron’s eyes were sliding in and out of focus. 

 

They were too many and they were too strong. Harry’s eyes went black and all he could hear was the jeering and maniacal laughter as his head hit the ground.

 

When he woke up, it was quiet and it was dark. Sitting up slowly and rubbing his head, he looked around.

 

And almost promptly threw up.

 

Ron and Neville were on the ground, their bodies twisted at weird angles and their faces so pale there was no question they were dead. 

 

Then, silently appearing and gliding up to Harry, a cloaked figure held his wand just inches away from Harry’s face. The hood of cloak fell back to reveal Voldemort’s pale white face and bright red eyes. He hissed, there was a flash of bright green light –

Harry sat up in bed, panting and sweating with the sheets tangled around his legs. He slowly untwisted them, mostly concentrating on controlling his breathing. His only success was managing to get the sheets even more tangled. Finally, after a few tries, he kicked them off and swung his legs over so he was sitting on the side of the bed. 

Pushing his sweaty hair back, he looked over to where Ron was sleeping on the other side of the room. His snores were quiet. He must have just fallen asleep. It had taken Harry himself a while to get to sleep the previous night, and not just because the sound of Ron tossing and turning all night kept him up. 

He looked out of Ron’s small bedroom window. The sun was peeking out from over the green hills in the distance and the orange of the sky matched those of Ron’s Chudley Cannons bed sheets.

Harry put his glasses on. He wasn’t getting back to sleep now. Stepping lightly so he wouldn’t wake Ron, he walked across the room and shut the door quietly behind him.  
In actual fact, Harry had passed out on that search after being pretty much torn apart by Death Eaters. Ron and Neville, however, managed to free themselves from them and grab Harry before apparating out of there and back to their own campsite. When Harry had woken up hours later, they had packed up and were ready to move on to the next place. They made sure to scope each place out before attacking somewhere else again, but never had there been that amount of Death Eaters in one spot again.

It was only early, but when Harry got downstairs, the kitchen was full of all sorts of delicious smells. They woke Harry up and his stomach growled.

“Good morning, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, picking up the last of the food on his plate with a fork and putting it in his mouth. 

“Harry, dear! You’re up early!” Mrs. Weasley said kindly, smiling at him.

“I smelt the food,” he said in reply and she chuckled.

“Well, sit down and I’ll fix you some.”

“I best be off, my dear,” Mr. Weasley stood up as Harry sat down, taking his plate to the sink and wiping the crumbs off the front of his robes. “Busy day at the office again I’m afraid.” He gave her a peck on the lips, said a quick goodbye to Harry and once outside, apparated.

“Everyone said things would be better after the war. They said everything would be easier,” Mrs. Weasley said sadly, putting some food onto a plate. “But there’s just a whole lot of work to do.” She put the plate in front of Harry and sat across from him at the table. “You look awfully tired, dear. Maybe you should go back up to bed after you’ve eaten?”

“No, that’s okay, Mrs. Weasley.” There was a short silence. “Would you like me to do anything for you today?”

He wanted to keep busy. If he sat around all day, he’d drive himself insane with the images and memories that play through his mind at night. He also felt bad, putting Mrs. Weasley through what he had while he and the others were gone and then coming back, hardly apologetic and letting Mrs. Weasley and the rest of her family do all the work.

“No, that’s okay dear.”

“I’m sorry that we all run off like that without telling you. And I’m sorry that we were gone for so long and didn’t write to you to tell you where we were or what we were doing.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she just looked at him, thankfulness shining through her tired eyes.

“Would you like some more food?” she asked him, standing up.

Harry looked down at his plate, which wasn’t even half-cleared yet. 

“Sure,” he said and she took it.

When she returned it to him, it had double the amount of food she put on it the first time. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

***

A few hours later, after everyone else had woken up and eaten, Harry found himself sitting in the living room, his elbow resting on the armrest and chin propped on his hand as he stared past the wall opposite him and into something else deep and dark entirely. 

The house was quiet, the only sounds being Mrs. Weasley bustling around and even that was quiet. 

A flash of bright red hair shuffled past and plonked itself down in an armchair across from where Harry was sitting.

George stared glumly at him, his hair long and messy, his red stubble in need of a shave and a ratty blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“How ya Harry?” his voice was quiet and sad sounding.

Harry shrugged. “You?”

George shrugged back. 

“You look tired,” Harry said, without really meaning to.

George half-smiled, but it was one of those bitter smiles. It took the natural laughter out of his eyes and sent a cold shiver up Harry’s spine.

“So do you.” A silence settled over them. Harry looked away and stared out the window.

The sun was shining down and he could see Ginny walking up to the orchard with a broom. He could feel George’s eyes boring holes into him as red as Ginny’s hair looked in the sunlight.

“Do you have nightmares too?” George asked him.

Harry’s eyes snapped to him and he tensed up, sitting up straighter but leaning a little further back in his seat.

“I do. All the time. I don’t sleep. Mum says it’s normal.” George stared at Harry expectantly and when he didn’t say anything he said, “So do you?”

Harry looked away again and waited a moment before answering. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“I don’t think Mum does. She’s the strongest woman I know … and I’ve met a lot of strong women. Stronger than me …” he trailed off and took a moment to recompose himself. “I go to a therapist.” At Harry’s look of surprise, he continued. “Mum suggested it. I think it helps. I don’t know. I thought it was stupid at first … but she’s lost her twin too.”

“Your therapist?”

George nodded. “Yeah, she … she knows what it’s like …” He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “You should go. To a therapist. Maybe you could go to mine. She’s good. It helps.” 

As if he had intended to have this conversation with Harry, George shrugged the blanket off and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment with a name and an address.

“Amanda Cutworth?”

“The name sounds harsh. Show that to Ron for me too, would you?”

Harry nodded and George picked up his blanket before shuffling out of the room again.

Harry spent the rest of the morning slowly writing out a letter as he watched the trees, looking for Ginny’s figure flying around on her broom. 

***

Hermione came by around lunchtime. Mrs. Weasley made all of them tea and sandwiches, but Harry had to eat his in the living room because when he tried to sit down with her and Mrs. Weasley, she had almost Avada Kedavra’ed him with her eyes.

“I wonder where on earth Ginny is. She would love to hear all this. Maybe she’s in the orchard … Excuse me, Hermione dear, while I go look for her. And where is Ronald?” Harry heard Mrs. Weasley say as she came through the living room and went out the back door in search of Ginny.

“Yes, where is Ronald?” Hermione asked Harry, coming into the living room and standing in front of Harry, hands of her hips, her voice and facial expression deadly.

“Still asleep, I think.”

“Still asleep? That lazy -”

“He had a rough night.” Harry looked at her meaningfully, trying to make her understand what he meant without outright saying it.

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and her features immediately softened. “I might just go check on him then,” she said quietly.

Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Weasley had returned with Ginny, but Ron nor Hermione were anywhere to be seen.

The three of them sat around the kitchen table in an awkward silence. Now and again, Harry felt like Ginny was staring at him, but every time he stole a glance at her, she was looking out the kitchen window or down at her hands in her lap.

“More tea anyone?” Mrs. Weasley asked them finally.

They both declined and Mrs. Weasley sighed. 

Just as she was about to open her mouth to say something else, the sound of two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs could be heard and both Ron and Hermione entered the kitchen. Instead of the messy hair and disarrayed clothing both Harry and Ginny were hoping to joke about, Hermione looked distressed and was silently distressing over a red-eyed, exhausted looking Ron.

“Ron! Are you okay?” Mrs. Weasley jumped up and rushed over to him, placing both hands on his cheeks and inspecting his face.

Ginny also looked concerned and was in an awkward position of half-sitting, half-standing.

“I’m fine, Mum,” Ron muttered. “Just a little tired. Harry snores.”

They all laughed a little at that and Ron and Hermione sat down at the table. Mrs. Weasley placed food in front of Ron and tea in front of all the rest. It all went untouched, except for Ron’s food, which got wolfed down and then replaced with more almost straightaway. 

They all tried generating a conversation with Hermione, but she was too busy focusing on Ron to really put her heart into one. Harry wondered what had happened upstairs to make her so worried about him.

After eating his third plate of food, he sat back for a minute and then said, “I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

They all murmured an ‘okay’ and he nodded before standing up and walking slowly up the stairs. 

When his footsteps could no longer be heard, Hermione turned back to the other three sitting at the table and forced a smile.

“How are your parents, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked her.

“They’re doing well. I think they’re a little bit upset with me, but they enjoyed Australia and they’re glad I’m okay.”

“Where are they staying?”

“I took them home this morning. They’re both fretting because the house is filthy, so they’ll be occupied with that over the next couple days.”

Slowly, some of the colour started to return to her face as she told Mrs. Weasley and Ginny about Australia. They were in Tasmania when Hermione found them and after she had lifted the spell and explained to them what had happened, they went travelling around. They were in Tasmania for a while and even though her parents had already been everywhere, they also took her to Melbourne, Sydney and the Great Barrier Reef.  
She said that the weather in Melbourne this time of year was just like England’s, but everywhere else was sunny and pretty, even if it was a little on the colder side. 

No one was really talking to Harry, so eventually he excused himself and stood up. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley looked at him briefly and nodded before returning to their conversation. 

Ginny didn’t even acknowledge him.

Ron was drying his hair with a towel and searching the room for something when Harry got there.

“Can’t find my wand …” he muttered, quickly looking up at Harry before continuing to look for it.

“You mean this wand?” Harry said, holding up the wand that lay on the dresser next to the door just moments before.

“Yeah, that wand,” Ron breathed out, a quick smile flashing over his face as he took it from Harry’s hands. 

“You alright, mate?” Harry asked tentatively as Ron started throwing things into the dresser and his bedside drawer.

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit …” He didn’t finish his sentence. Truth was, Harry wanted to know what had gone on between him and Hermione just an hour before, but it didn’t seem like Ron wanted to talk about it.

“George and I were talking this morning,” Harry said. Something about the air in the room was awkward and the fact that Ron wouldn’t just stand still was getting on Harry’s nerves.

“Oh yeah?” Ron said, obviously distracted.

“Yeah. He suggested I go see a therapist. And he wanted me to suggest it to you too.”

Harry held his breath. Ron had frozen and was staring at Harry. Then, his arms dropped to his sides and there was a set in his jaw.

“A therapist, huh?” His voice was surprisingly calm and did not at all match the look on his face.

Harry nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Ron threw the clothes he was holding onto the bed and took a couple steps back and then a couple steps forward again.

“Yeah, I might be able to do with a therapist,” he said finally, nodding his head. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Harry pulled the parchment George had given him out of his jeans pocket and gave it to Ron. “I wrote to her already.”

Ron took the paper from Harry and stared at it for a minute before looking back up and muttering a thank you.

A couple of awkward nods later, Harry found himself back downstairs and in the kitchen, Ron following shortly after him.

***

Hermione ended up staying for dinner, which might have been a mistake on her part because shortly after she had agreed to stay, Mrs. Weasley decided to inform them that Percy would also be coming over for dinner.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to be the only one excited about this. George seemed especially mortified.

“Why is he coming?” he whined, sounding remarkably like a five year old. 

“Because he wants to, George!”

“What makes him think he’s allowed?”

“Maybe it’s the fact that he is my son and your brother! Of course he is allowed! In fact, he is welcomed!”

“Not by me he isn’t! He treats you and dad like dragon dung, doesn’t talk to us for years and he’s barely even paid us the slightest attention since the battle!”

“Well, he’s been busy with the Ministry, George, it’s a very stressful time for everybody.”

“Him and his precious Ministry,” George mocked in a childish, high-pitched voice.

“Now, there is no need to be like that. He was just a little misguided … But he has apologised now and we are all ready to move on.”

Harry and Ron were watching the quarrel unfold before them from the stairs.

George jumped up and down and stomped his feet dramatically. With the same blanket he had earlier still wrapped around his shoulders, he really did look like an oversized child. “It’s not fair!”

“George Weasley, for Merlin’s sake, you are nineteen years old and you are acting like a child! Percy will be arriving home with your father tonight and he will be staying for dinner and you will eat with us and you will make friendly conversation with him and you will like it. Do we have an understanding?”

“I’m not talking to him,” George dismissed her mini-rant entirely. “I’m not doing it!”

“Oh yes you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

She chased him all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom, trying to get more words in, but every time she would open her mouth, George would just scream “I’m not!” again.

Tonight would be nothing short of interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry it took me soooo long to update, but I got locked out of my account for a while because I couldn't remember the password. I'm back to (hopefully) frequent updates though! :) Let me know your thoughts with some kudos or a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read and hope you enjoyed! I know I love writing this and I love hearing back thoughts and feedback so please leave some if you find yourself with the time.


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